Here In Me
by PrincessKayte
Summary: When a strange phenominon rips the Weasley family apart, it is up to Ron to descend into the underworld of wizardry to unlock why his family's been torn asunder. But when a secret is brought into the open, Ron discovers that even after hardship, love conq
1. Part I; Chapter i

Here In Me  
  
PrincessKayte  
  
Standard Disclaimers Apply.  
  
Couples: H/R, F/G  
  
Rating: PG-13 for language, adult moments and themes.  
  
~*~  
  
Part One  
  
Awakening  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter I  
  
~*~  
  
It seemed to Ron that nothing could possibly be worse. It was that horrible day before the end of school; that bittersweet day when you hugged yourself to keep from crying while laughing along with all the rest. Ron knew it was useless to keep it a secret any longer. It wasn't fair to anyone to not know. After all, every single teacher at Hogwarts knew- not to mention Ginny, and Fred, and George, and all the other Weasleys at school. It wasn't fair to keep it from neither Harry nor Hermione any longer. After all, he would have to live with one of them over the summer. He steeled himself and knocked on the 7th-year dormitories. A tousle- headed Lee Jordan opened the door.  
  
"Hi, Ron," he said kindly- 'Christ,' Ron thought, 'Even Lee knows!', and took Ron by the shoulder. "You're right on time."  
  
"Time for what?" Ron looked around the dormitory. It looked how it always had- messy, loved, and lived-in. Ron loved that dormitory. He had always been welcomed because he was Fred and George's little brother, and Lee had taken a liking to him as well. As far as the three of them were concerned, Ron was good enough to have access to the coveted 7th-Year dormitory.  
  
"Exploding Snap, you prude," George yelled as Fred chased him across the dormitory. Fred jumped on George, pinning him to a rumpled and mussed bed with his knees on George's chest. Fred shoved his hands up under George's too-small turtleneck shirt and began scattering his fingertips across the boy's chest. George was howling for mercy and writhing beneath his brother.  
  
"Stoppit, Fred, damn you," he said, between bouts of laughter. "I hate it when you-" he exploded into a wild coughing fit, and Fred stopped, alarmed. Ron looked over at them, bemused. He knew what came next, everyone did. His eyes studied the two for a moment as George continued to hack. Fred's blue eyes were wide with concern and he cradles George's head in his palms so George didn't smack his skull against the bedbox. George's eyes were squeezed shut, tears welling from them as he coughed, face pink. Fred would, in a moment, panic and lift his knees off of George's chest. That was when George struck.  
  
Ron had timed it perfectly, like usual. George ceased coughing, flipped Fred off of him, then pounced down onto his brother and began his own merciless father-light attack of Fred's chest and armpits. Fred howled, if it was possible, even louder then George did. Ron and Lee exchanged a look as Fred and George calmed down. Fred managed to push George off of him and they lay in an exhausted heap at their brother's feet.  
  
"That was an excellent game, Ronnikins," George said breathlessly. "It was a shame you had to miss it."  
  
"Cheater," Fred growled good-naturedly at his twin. George always cheated, Fred would chase him across the dormitory, and the game would end just as it had; just as it always did. Ron sat down across from the panting, red-faced twins. He longed for someone to have such a relationship with. Fred and George often scolded him and told him that he did. Ron could not recall ever having rolled across the floor with someone, or even getting up to such antics as the twins did. They had simply tapped his nose and told him that he had a relationship like theirs. 'You just haven't found it yet, Ronnikins,' Fred would say. George would agree.  
  
"Well, d'you know where you are staying yet?" George asked Ron gently. He knew it was an especially sensitive subject with the youngest Weasley boy, the most proud Weasley, aside from Percy, and the most undisputedly sensitive. Both Fred and George knew, however much he tried to hide it, Ron was the most upset by the transfer. He was the most upset about Arthur as well.  
  
"I haven't asked yet," Ron said gloomily.  
  
"WHAT?!" Fred exploded. "Christ, Ron, it's the last day of school tomorrow! We leave on the train at noon! You better have someone in mind, you bloody prat." "Give him a brake, Fred," George waved off the verbal attack. "D'you at least have someone in mind?"  
  
"Of course he does!" Lee broke in then. Lee had been trying very hard to stay out of the personal lives of Fred and George, finding them very complicated, but he needed to butt in at this moment, push Ron in the direction needed. He knew George and Fred would not pressure or even suggest anything to Ron about this. "He's gonna go stay with Harry, aren't you?"  
  
"Erm," Ron reddened a little. "The thought crossed my mind."  
  
"Of course it did," Fred said airily, not to mention loudly, yawning and waving his hand importantly. "Everyone knows that Ickle Ronnikins FANCIES the famous Harry Potter-" He stopped as soon as he realized what he had said.  
  
"Fred!" George looked horrified. 'Why the hell'd you blurt that out?" Ron looked stunned, and hurt, and Lee Jordan immediately regretted saying anything about Harry.  
  
'For your information, Fred," Ron spat angrily, "I am not going to Harry's, because he's upset with me. And, because Ginny's already staying with him."  
  
"Ginny?" George sounded surprised. "Why's Ginny staying with him?"  
  
"Because she asked him." Ron glared hatefully at Fred, who laughed nervously.  
  
"Well, you can stay too, can't you?"  
  
"No," Ron spat at Fred again, and Fred quailed in front of his angry, 5-inch-taller brother, and shrunk back to George. "Harry isn't allowed to have more then one person stay with him. That's what Ginny told me, at least."  
  
"Well, you can always stay with Hermione," Fred said, when Lee suddenly thought of something. His face lit up.  
  
"Ron," he blurted, and the redhead turned to him. "Does Harry even know why Ginny has to stay with him?" Ron blinked. The thought never occurred to him.  
  
"No, she didn't," he mused thoughtfully. "He said yes because he likes Ginny. I mean, he fancies her."  
  
"Does he," George mused to himself. "I think you're wrong, Ron. I don't think he fancies Ginny at all."  
  
"You don't, do you," Ron turned, seething, to his brother. "Well, I think he fancies her quite a lot. I think he fancies her so much that he keeps all those stupid love poetries she sent to him! He showed me, and told me how sweet she is, and how like me she is, and how fun she is to be with, and how." Ron stopped, looking embarrassed with himself. "I'm so stupid. How could I ever think Harry'd like me, of all people! He's not even like that, I bet."  
  
"You'd be surprised how many people are 'Like that' here, Ron."  
  
"Oh, yes. Like who?" Ron replied, sarcastic.  
  
"Well," Fred said thoughtfully, chewing on his long fringe, "Like Perce, for example. Or Charlie."  
  
"Percy? Charlie?" Ron sounded incredulous.  
  
"Mmhmm," George murmured to himself. "Like Lee," Lee grinned and pointed at himself. "And like Fred and I."  
  
"Fred? You?" Ron was at a loss. "You never told me, and you knew about me?"  
  
"Wasn't any of your business," Fred sniffed. "You weren't old enough to understand, anyway." Ron sighed, his eyes downcast. George looked at Ron for a moment then, really looked, and was startled at what he saw.  
  
No longer was Ron the little boy, worried but cheerful, he had known growing up. While Ron had always been an easy target, a target for vast amounts of wicked practical jokes, Ron had always been patient and kind. It was now George noticed how old he looked, more like Arthur every day, his messy red hair falling limp into those liquid brown eyes, so deep you could drown in them, soul-searing and always ripping the truth from the heart of those under their gaze. A tall and skinny young man, Ron was and always had been tall and long. His fingers especially, his fingers and his hands were almost fluid in their movement, and move often they did. The restlessness now shrouding Ron had never been there in his youth. George remembered Ron as such a carefree little boy. He felt, with a tugging, painful jerk at his heart, that he was looking at a stranger.  
  
"Ron," he whispered, shocking the entire room. 'What's happened to you?" "I've grown up, I suppose," he answered listlessly, again those graceful hands moving, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. "I didn't mean to become this horrible, moody thing I am." He sighed, dropping his long, pale arms to his sides. "I'm sorry I'm a disappointment, George. I never meant to disappoint you." He was quiet. "That's why Dad left, isn't it. I was too much a disappointment to stand any longer."  
  
"Oh, Ron, that isn't true," George said weakly, knowing Ron would never believe him. Seeing Ron turn from him in sadness ripped at his soul.  
  
Knowing he could never tell Ron the truth hurt even more. 


	2. Part I; Chapter ii

Here In Me  
  
PrincessKayte  
  
~*~  
  
Part One  
  
Awakening  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter Two  
  
~*~  
  
Ron, somehow, made his way down to dinner, his eyes blinded by tears. He supposed that four years of attending school here could allow you to find your way no matter where you were, like when he was at home, in the Burrow. It brought more frustrated tears to his eyes to think about the fact he would not return to Hogwarts, nor the Burrow, in the foreseeable future. Ron felt a burning anger towards Fred, then; Fred, that laughing enigma who had plagued Ron all his life, who had never once stopped to consider the feelings of others. And while Ron silently hated Fred- perhaps hate was too strong a word, but, perhaps, Ron was too angry to care- he also silently loved George more than ever. George had always been the connection between Ron and Fred, George being the more sensible of the twins, the more logical and down-to-earth boy. Fred had a burning fire in him, a passion, no one knew exactly what it was, and not many people even knew it was there. Ron doubted Lee knew it was. Fred's passion was not flying, as a first guesser would think. Nor was it truly opening a joke shop.  
  
Fred's passion was George, it came to Ron suddenly, as he walked down winding staircases, trying to unravel the secret of his brother. It was obvious now, as he really thought about it, the way Fred talked about George, and how he felt guilty if he knew something his twin did not. George was right about their relationship, Ron thought, with undeniable envy. It was a priceless and rare love. A mix, almost, between the love of brothers, lovers, and the very best of friends. It was an odd combination, but the two made it work somehow, and that above all other aspects of it made Ron most jealous of all.  
  
It wasn't as if he didn't want a relationship like they had; that wasn't it at all. Ron knew exactly who he wanted it with. And Harry fancied Ginny, no doubt in his mind that it wasn't the case. He could remember every conversation they had ever had about Ginny. Ron, though, felt no bitter jealousy towards his sister the way he did towards Fred. Instead, he felt a resigned sorrow. He and Ginny had always stuck up for one another. He would never rip away her happiness in the selfish, and, in the end, unfruitful chase of his own.  
  
Ron could remember one of those late-night conversations perfectly well, above all the others blurred in his mind. Harry had woken, sweaty and wide- eyed, from another nightmare, and Ron had held him as he cried. Marveled in the innocent closeness of it all, until Harry had ruined it with one simple, infuriating sentence Ron still brooded over.  
  
'You're so awfully like Ginny,' he had said breathlessly, voice harsh from crying. Ron started and looked into Harry's sincere green eyes.  
  
'What do you mean?'  
  
'Well, Ginny, she looks almost like you, except her eyes, of course,' Harry had replied. 'She has your same outlook on life. Though she's a bit more cheerful then you.'  
  
'Of course she is,' Ron had thought angrily. 'She doesn't know about Dad yet.' But, to Harry, he had given an indifferent 'Mmhmm'.  
  
'She's awful pretty,' he had sighed, and Ron had almost laughed. He would have laughed, he thought now, if it hadn't hurt so much. 'Don't you think?'  
  
Ron had sighed then, and unconsciously, he sighed again now. 'She's beautiful, Harry.' To himself, then and now, he added: 'And so are you.'  
  
Ron stumbled into the Great Hall, dragged himself to the usual section of Griffyndor Table, and threw himself moodily onto the bench across from Hermione. Hermione, looking vaguely surprised, put her book down on the table, her finger marking her place. A sign she would not listen very long, Ron thought bitterly, and resisted the urge to holler in her face, 'Pay attention to me! I'm here too!'  
  
"Is something the matter?"  
  
"No," he snapped defensively back at her, his voice stinging his own ears. "I'm bloody peachy."  
  
"Yes, why don't you tell me how bloody peachy you are, Ron," this time, Hermione slipped a bit of folded parchment into her place and laid the small leather-bound book onto the table. Now, he had her attention. "You've been moody since Christmas, and it's getting to everyone. Harry, myself, your brothers, Ginny-"  
  
"Why's Ginny worried?" Again, the overwhelming instinct to protect Ginny hit Ron so hard he could smell it. A small and selfish part of his brain cried, 'Leave her! She's the enemy!' but his loyalty to his sister quashed the voice into the back of his mind.  
  
"Because you're so.distant, Ron. Why won't you tell us?" Hermione's brown eyes were concerned. "I know what it's about, I think."  
  
"You have no bloody idea," he growled back, crossing his arms, and pouting. A cool hand curled over the tops of his.  
  
"Are you so sure about that," she replied gently. He looked up, startled. "You know, you're allowed to talk about your feelings too. I know how it feels to be so in love with someone you know that you can never have." He looked up at her in shock.  
  
"Hermione-" She interrupted him.  
  
"This is neither the time nor the place. Meet me in the Common Room at midnight."  
  
"Midnight is so awfully early on the last night of school," Ron muttered, aware his face was reddening.  
  
"Fine, then. Three." Hermione picked up her book and swept away without another word. Ron looked around, bewildered.  
  
'What the hell just happened?' His confused mind begged for the answer to a question that had none.  
  
~*~  
  
Ron was so anxious, he was early to the Common Room. Seamus and Lavender were the last stragglers, giggling quietly together in the big loveseat by the fire, before heading their separate ways. Ron sat, slouching, in a plush, dull red chair, wondering crankily why he always got stuck with maroon, when the Portrait Hole slid open.  
  
"Hermi?" It was too dark for Ron to see clearly. Hermione hurried out of the shadows. It appeared to Ron as if she had appeared out of thin air. He shrugged it off, the queasy feeling of nostalgia, guessing she was probably practicing Apparating earlier than she should. She sat across from Ron and he noticed with lacked interest her feet barely grazed the floor. "So, now what?"  
  
"I know you fancy Harry," she whispered. Ron grew pale before warming.  
  
"Now why the hell'd you dream up something like that?"  
  
"I didn't dream it up," she said, exasperated. "Ginny told me." Ron stared, gaping.  
  
"How the hell'd Ginny think up something like that?" His voice was shocked. Hermione shrugged.  
  
"I think she went through your things." Ron would have said something angrily but Hermione cut him off. "I don't think it's bad, Ron. But I think you're going to have trouble getting your point across to Harry."  
  
"Why's that," Ron said, mock curious. "Because he's my best friend and he isn't going to cheer la-dee-da because his best friend is a faggot?"  
  
"Ron," she said, and her tone was so serious Ron stopped short of another wisecrack. "I mean it. The problem isn't with Harry." Ron just looked at her. He shook his head.  
  
"No, I guess not. Anyway, let's not talk about Harry, he makes me ache. I have a favor to ask."  
  
"Whatever you'd like, Ron."  
  
"Hermi.could I stay at your house over Summer Holiday?" Hermione's eyes went wide, and then suddenly compassionate.  
  
"Of course you can. I was wondering when you would ask me."  
  
"Erm," he said, clearly taken aback. "Don't you want to owl your parents?"  
  
"I already have," she said simply, and he let it drop. You could never win against Hermione. "What I don't understand is why you didn't ask Harry."  
  
"Isn't it obvious? Ginny fancies him, he fancies Ginny. Why not let them stay together? They'll be very happy. It will make both their holidays."  
  
"You're Harry's best friend," she said protectively. Ron wondered why she was defending him so much. "And I can only be his best friend." He emphasized the "only" and Hermione pursed her lips.  
  
"Ron, it's time I let you in on a little secret."  
  
"Sorry?" He looked confused. 'Well, that came out of nowhere,' his conscience griped. She stood up.  
  
"We found it a while ago, Harry and I, and we weren't sure if it was right for us to tell you. It's also how I found out about your Dad. We're both awfully sorry. But it just wouldn't have been right to say something."  
  
"Right," he said glumly. "Can't let Julius Caesar know that his Council's planning his murder." She shook her head.  
  
"The point is.oh, come on, Ron, see for yourself." She made her way to the door. "Well, come on, then. You could just sit here and never know, if you'd rather."  
  
Ron, part of him balking, meekly followed her. 


	3. Part I; Chapter iii

Here In Me  
  
PrincessKayte  
  
Author's Note: Apologizes for this being so short, I promise chapter four, the first of the second part, will be longer and will explain what happens in this!  
  
~*~  
  
Part One  
  
Awakening  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter Three  
  
~*~  
  
Ron's brain was fighting with his body as Hermione dragged him down a darkened corridor. He thought he put up a gallant struggle.  
  
"Come on, 'Mi, what if someone catches us? Filch is notorious for-"  
  
"Be quiet, Ron, Filch is not going to catch us." She dragged the boy along behind her in silence, and Ron gave up. He fought inside of his head, still. 'How the hell'd she find out about Harry?' his voice griped. 'No one was supposed to know. I bet Ginny did tell her- but how the hell'd Ginny know? NO ONE was supposed to know, and I doubt very much weather Fred or George told her.'  
  
'What makes you so sure about that, Weasley,' that same selfish part of his brain was angry. 'She is interested in Harry. You know that, Fred knows that, and obviously, George knows that too. Why wouldn't they warn her? They love her and don't you want her to be happy? They do also, same as you.'  
  
'Well, they love me too,' Ron thought crossly. 'I know they do, I know I don't know Fred as well as I ought to, but I know George loves me.'  
  
'Why should famous and glorious Harry Potter be stuck with someone like you,' the voice shot back, 'When he could have a beautiful witch like Ginny?'  
  
That struck a nerve. While Ron didn't consider himself bad-looking, he knew in his heart that Ginny far outshined him. She had curly ringlets of fire-red hair cascading to brush her shoulder blades, which she usually had tied back in a ponytail of some sorts; she had clear blue eyes¤ that sparkled like the sky, or the lake on a clear spring day. She was small, compact, and rounded, with curves like an hourglass. Even Draco Malfoy, who hated the Weasleys, could not help but stare, slack-jawed, at Ginny when she attended the Yule Ball that year (she had been accompanied by Colin Creevy).  
  
'That isn't fair,' Ron shot back at his voice, but the voice just chuckled darkly. 'Give up,' it told him. 'You know that Harry will never want you.' "We're here," Hermione announced to the glowering Ron. The voice retreated.  
  
"Um, Hermione?" Ron looked sideways at his friend. "This is Flitwick's classroom."  
  
"I know that," she said, shaking her head, brown waves falling about her shoulders. "Just come on in and I'll show you." The two walked inside of the classroom, and Hermione sealed the door with a conterspell to prevent it being opened by 'Alohamora'. Ron turned his head and found himself face to face with an old, decorative mirror.  
  
"Oh no," Ron said, nervous laughter in his voice. "No way in hell, Hermione."  
  
"God, Ron, what are you AFRIAD of?"  
  
"Do you know what this thing does? It only shows the deepest desires of our hearts. Nothing more."  
  
"Ron," she said, like she was explaining something to a little child. "This is not the Mirror of Erised."  
  
"Well, then it must be its twin brother, because the things are bloody identical."  
  
"You wouldn't be caught dead saying that about Fred and George."  
  
"Are you telling me that the mirrors are like my brothers?" Ron looked at her like she was a raving idiot.  
  
"No," she sighed, exasperated. "This is not, again, the Mirror of Erised, which I have never stood before but have heard about numerous times." This was true. Harry and Ron had given her a blow-by-blow account about the mirror back in their first Christmas Holiday, and later that same year, Harry had told them what happened in the chamber under the school, with Quirrel, and with You-Know-Who, and the Philosopher's Stone. "This is the Mirror of Emocot."  
  
"What?" Ron stared at her, she only nodded. "What the hell does that mean?" Ron had never been told what the Mirror of Erised did. Hermione knew this from Harry. She shrugged.  
  
"I have no idea, but when I stand in front of it, you see things."  
  
"And what do YOU see?"  
  
"You, Harry and I having defeated Lord Voldemort once and for all."  
  
"Uh-huh," Ron shuddered at the name. "And what does that gibberish say up there?"  
  
"'Emocot teysi tahw tub ecaf rouy wohs tonod liltsi.'" Hermione replied promptly.  
  
"I'll be damned if I know how to pronounce that again," Ron said, stepping up to the mirror. Hermione waited patiently until she heard him gasp.  
  
"What is it?" Ron looked blankly from Hermione, back to the Mirror, then back to Hermione again. His brown eyes slowly filled with tears and he bolted from the room.  
  
~*~  
  
"Hey, Fred."  
  
"Mmm,"  
  
"Fred!" George hit the boy over the head with his wand.  
  
"Geroff! What the hell d'you want, George?"  
  
"I've been thinking,"  
  
"People tend to do that," Fred replied, with a pat on George's head.  
  
"Not that way, you git. I've been thinking about Ron. What do you think's wrong with him?"  
  
"Ickle Ronnikins? Oh, nothing besides the fact that his father abandoned his family and that he's in love with one of the most famous people in our world, not to mention said famous person is his best friend and also male, and that said famous best friend is also fancying his little sister, who fancies that person in return, and the fact that we can't get him to see that we're only trying to help, but he's still getting his poor little Weasley heart stomped on." Fred took a breath. "Absolutely nothing is wrong with Ron, George."  
  
"Very funny," George glared at his twin. "Harry does NOT fancy Ginny."  
  
"Look, you can tell me the truth."  
  
"I.well, I don't know, I'd have to ask Harry."  
  
"Bad idea," Fred warned, looking up at George out of his blue eyes. "He'll be all, 'oh, why do you lot want to know?" And we'll have to be, 'Because, Harry, Ron fancies you but he's too shy and scared of rejection to say, and he thinks you fancies Ginny, and is that true?' And that will lead to messy situations."  
  
"I didn't mean like that," George sighed, "but I think you have a point."  
  
"'Course I have a point," he said brightly. "I always have a point."  
  
"Not always a point, but you've usually got something hard to compensate for your lack of a point."  
  
"Touché."  
  
"I try." George rolled onto his stomach; Lee was snoring loudly, his tarantula on his chest.  
  
"I don't believe it!" Fred groaned, "That great bloody thing sleeps when he does!"  
  
"Better be careful," George warned. "If Lee hears you calling.uh."  
  
"Bile," Fred added helpfully.  
  
"Thanks," George replied. "If Lee catches you calling Bile a bloody great spidy again he'll kick you, and you'll have another bruise to match that one on your shin."  
  
"And Lee wears cleats."  
  
"Is he still trying to scratch up the floor to give Filch a heart attack?" Fred replied solemnly:  
  
"Brother of mine, if I 'ad a pair of cleats, I would be too."  
  
~*~  
  
¤: I am aware that Ginny actually has brown eyes as well, but I wanted to stay with the Weasley Theory, established by my friend Aryana and I. The Theory goes: All the tall Weasleys have the brown eyes of Arthur, all the more compact, stocky Weasleys carry that blue-eyed gene from Molly. Hence:  
  
Bill has brown eyes, Charlie has blue; Percy, brown, Fred and George, blue, Ron, brown and (technically) Ginny has brown eyes as well, but I prefer a curvy Ginny to a gangly one, because as I picture her, she is a miniature Mrs. Weasley. This is, of course, just artistic license on my part. 


End file.
